


Somewhere Greener, Somewhere Warmer

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dancing, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 00:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: This hadn’t been on her agenda for the day…1.) Pay for motel room2.) Shower and eat3.) Fuck your best friendIn other words, Natasha and Clint find their way to each other after Laura and Clint divorce.  This is meant to take place somewhere post Civil War when Clint was on the run.  I assumed they'd be together but the MCU Jossed me.





	Somewhere Greener, Somewhere Warmer

Clint laid on his side, back to Natasha as she changed. They’d been here for three days but she went out today, leaving him to soak in filth, beer, and onion rings from the bar at the corner. “You can’t sulk. You’re the one who told her to do it,” Natasha told him as her hand came to rest on her shoulder. She squeezed softly and he could feel her climb in and lay behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist. “I know this sucks, Clint. I’m sorry.” Clint patted her hand, not knowing what else to do. He’d quietly signed off on divorce papers a week ago, coming out of hiding long enough to put ink to paper and free Laura from him. It had been their plan if things ever went south. Before the kids, she’d have run with him. Now that they had kids, she had to stay. Their kids had to be a priority and Clint would never put them in harm’s way. Clint had handed off letters for each of them to the lawyer and left. It was one of of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life. And now he could barely move. 

“Come on,” Natasha said softly. She leaned in, pressing herself to him to whisper in his ear. “Let me start the shower for you. You reek.” She kissed his shoulder before getting up. “Then you can pick which one of the two places you want to eat at in this little shit bag town.” 

“Goody,” Clint sat up, his back still to her. He could feel Natasha moving to touch him then stopping herself. Clint being in pain equaled Natasha in pain. That was one of the main reasons he tried not to let her know when he was hurting, especially not like this. This wasn’t a: _Give it a couple of weeks and it’ll feel better_ kind of hurt. “The VFW or a gas station bar.” 

“I vote VFW. At least it’s probably clean.” Natasha tossed him a towel. “Get moving, soldier.” Clint rolled out of bed mostly because it was what she needed. When he couldn’t get moving for himself, he could sometimes do it for someone else. Laura, his kids, Natasha. She started the shower and left it running in an attempt to get him moving. It worked and the shower itself felt good even if the streams came out like little drills into his skin and the soap smelled like a hospital he’d once stayed in for two weeks. When Clint came out, wet and warm to the touch and Natasha greeted him with a cold beer and a nod at the desk. “I grabbed something for you to wear.” 

“Dressing me now,” Clint asked as he had a good pull on the beer. He looked at what she’d put out and shrugged. It was fine, clean. That was probably more what Natasha was worried about than appearance to be honest. He’d noticed her nose wrinkling up more than once since they went on the run. “We need to move on tomorrow.” 

“I know.” Natasha had made him take a couple of days off of travel when he stopped sleeping. Then he’d laid down and stayed in the shitty motel bed for a couple days. “You ready for that?” 

“No choice.” He finished the beer in a go and tossed his towel on the ground. Natasha didn’t bother looking away. It wasn’t as though they both hadn’t seen each other naked. They hadn’t slept together or anything, but he’d once been shot in the hip and she had been doused in chemicals that literally ate the suit from her body. Plus, they’d been on the road together for ages over the years. “You’re driving tomorrow,” he told her. “I’m getting fucked up enough to be hungover.”

“… so same thing you did last night?” Her brow arched and Clint flipped her off before pulling on a pair of boxers and his jeans. Once his shirt and shoes were on, they headed out of their room, locking up tight before making their way the half mile to the VFW. They didn’t talk, just took the walk over driving because they both needed the exercise and neither wanted to remain sober tonight. “North or south,” she asked him as they got to the VFW. 

“… south. Warmer,” he pointed out holding the door. “Ugh. Fish,” Clint sighed. 

“It’s a VFW and it’s Lent,” Natasha pointed out. “Besides, you like fish.” 

Three baskets of fish and four more beers had Clint in a slightly better mood. “It’s not bad, actually.” She laughed. “Shut up.” Her hands went up in faux surrender. “… thanks for getting me out.” Despite being a miserable bastard, he really was grateful to her for keeping his head above water. 

“It was more to air the room out,” she teased as she called the waitress over for more fish and beer. Clint was happy when he was full, of this Natasha was well aware. Plus, he had barely eaten in days so she was going for broke. “You smelled like week old liver and onions left out in the sun.” 

“Gross.”

“My point.” Natasha picked up her beer, sipping at it. It took a lot to get her wasted, so a few beers over the course of the night was not going to bother her that much. Besides, Natasha deserved to catch a little buzz and relax after putting up with his sullen ass for weeks now. “So south,” she continued. They made plans in small bits over the night, unusual for them but needed because Clint had zero attention span when he was drunk. He was so lucky to have her. 

“South. Somewhere we speak the language.” They both had a plethora of linguistic skills, and between them they could manage most places in the world. One semi-unique language they had in common was Portuguese. She’d know what he meant. 

“Mmmm,” her nod said she got it. “I know someone there. I’ll make a few calls. Incoming by the way. She’s been staring at you all night.” 

“Huh,” Clint was just turning his head when a tall, buxom blonde came in next to their table. 

“Hi, I’m Bianca.” She extended her hand and Clint took it, shaking with a glance at Natasha. “Well… I just couldn’t help it but you caught my eye. Big, handsome fella like you.” Natasha rolled her eyes and Clint smirked. He might be mourning the loss of his marriage, but Clint was amused that Natasha was annoyed and it was the first thing other than horrible that he’d felt in a week. “I was wondering if I could get a dance. I’d kick myself if I didn’t ask.” 

“I’ll help,” Natasha offered under her breath. 

“Sure.” Clint wasn’t a big dancer, but he did like annoying his partner. Plus, if he was totally honest, he and Natasha had used an intermediary to flirt before. He might have been happily married, but Clint Barton was not immune to the fact that his partner was drop dead gorgeous. He got up, shrugging at Nat before heading to the dance floor to join the woman. The floor was not crowded and Clint could feel Natasha’s eyes boring into him. He met them, brow raised as Becky or Betty or Blythe leaned in and nibbled his ear. It was a little too spitty and her breath was loud, but Natasha rolled her eyes and then called the waitress over, switching her beer for vodka. Two men approached the table and she glared at them until they left. It would have been easy for her to do what he was doing, but she clearly was not up for it. Still, she watched every move he was making with Brenda or Barbie or Bippi. 

“I don’t live too far.” Clint blinked, his attention flipping back to the woman grinding her ass into his groin. “Or there’s a storage closet we can use.” She boldly brought Clint’s hand high on her stomach just under her breast. “I don’t mind girls either if she’s got to be part of things but we’d have to go back to your place.” 

Clint was about to respond when the waitress came over to him with another beer. “Your … the lady at the table said to give this to you right now and tell you that your food is getting cold.” The waitress was neglecting to mention that Natasha had also slipped her twenty bucks to come over, though Clint had caught the exchange. 

“… sorry,” Clint said as he stepped back, taking a sip of his beer. “Ya heard the lady. Thanks for the dance Belinda.” 

“Bianca,” the woman said in a rather sharp tone. 

Clint gave his best, _whoops, sorry_ shrug and backed away, heading towards Natasha. “Subtle.” 

“Wasn’t going for subtle,” she countered. “You were about to do something you’d regret.”

“I don’t think so.” He looked back at the woman. “I would have used protection. OW!” Natasha stamped on his foot hard, glaring at him. “What, I'm kidding. I’d never fuck some townie. Though she did say if we were a package deal that she was dooooown, damn it.” He pulled his feet back as far as he could. “Jealous much?” Natasha didn’t respond, just drank her vodka and looked away. Clint genuinely felt bad. “Nat….”  
“It’s fine, Clint. Really. I just don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret. You’re still hurting and you’re just not that kind of guy.” She finally looked at him again and his drunk mind took too long to process what she was saying. Natasha was telling him that he was better than Bambi over there. He didn’t need some drunk townie to make him feel better and she was right. “We should go.” 

“I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“Yes you did,” Natasha shot back before finishing her drink and calling for another. 

“… really… I didn’t.” Clint reached out to take her hand. “I was… I don’t know, trying to tease or something.”“Tease?” One brow slowly raised and he knew he was in trouble. 

“Make you jealous or something.” Clint withdrew his hand, cheeks burning. “It was stupid.” 

“It was,” she agreed without venom. Natasha’s anger was gone and Clint was grateful for that. “You know I’d help you out, right?” 

“… help me out,” Clint asked as he took a sip of beer. 

“Sex, Clint.” He spit his beer on the table, eyes wide. “Americans.” 

“Natasha, that’s…”

“It’s not a big deal.” She glanced away, hand shifting the glass in her hand so the ice shifted. “Just don’t do something stupid because you’re lonely and/or horny.” 

Clint moved to speak but she slid out of her seat, excusing herself to the bar to get her drink her damn self. She left him there, staring after her. What the fuck had just happened? She stayed at the bar and drank for awhile, clearly not giving a crap about their earlier deal about driving tomorrow. He’d done a bad thing or said a bad thing and he was being punished. It took him a couple more beers to meet her across the room, sliding in next to her at the bar. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” She had her detached Russian face on and it didn’t crack even when he laid his hand at the small of her back. She glanced over at him for a moment before defiantly finishing her drink. “Stop pissing me off.” 

“I’ll try.”

“You’ll fail,” she told him before leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Are you ready?” 

“Not until I get a dance with the prettiest girl in the room.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Natasha told him before taking his hand and pulling Clint toward the dance floor. “Don’t talk.” She laid herself against him and Clint’s heart sped. It wasn’t because of her offer, it was because she felt as good in his arms. She stayed on the warmer side and he could just about circle her waist with his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and swayed, the beat holding her. She was a natural, her body was made for movement. Clint didn’t know who was leading, just that it wasn’t the first time the world had fallen away when he held her. He wanted to tell her all that but kept his mouth shut as instructed, knowing better than to challenge her on a direct command when she was pissed at him. Clint’s breath sped as her lips shifted against his throat, just barely glancing as she moved her head but going back the moment she realized it had effected him. 

Natasha stayed slow and methodical about her movements, breath teasing she shell of Clint’s ear then over the collar of his shirt. She swayed, rocking their bodies to the beat as one hand ran through his hair at the base of his skull. “Fuck,” Clint growled looking down at her. She looked satisfied and Clint wanted to do something about that. Natasha seemed to read that and one brow rose in challenge. She wanted this. She wanted _him_. Granted, they were both hammered at this point, but it wasn’t as though this was their first dance around the topic. Even Laura had once told him just to get it over with and fuck her. She’d even told him that she’d welcome Natasha in their bed if Clint wanted it and Natasha agreed. 

Seemingly sick of waiting for him to do something about it, Natasha leaned up and ran her lips over his. “That’s the idea, Barton.” She slipped away from him back toward their table leaving him standing there dumbly, staring at the way she swung her ass as she walked. Natasha put money on the table and headed for the door with their jackets, Clint following like a puppy looking for a treat. “We should…” He didn’t let her finish her sentence, pushing Natasha into the rough brick wall with a clumsy kiss she didn’t seem to mind. Now was the time for her heart to speed and Clint was proud as hell at that. It was no small feat to get the Black Widow to tremble. 

Clint knew his stupid mouth would get him into trouble if he opened it to talk. Instead Clint drug his lips down her throat then back to her jaw as she pulled at his shirt, untucking it until she could get her hands under to touch his stomach. Clint had caught her staring at his stomach more than once. She pulled him in close and caught his face in her hands to kiss again, one of those strong thighs wrapping around his hip. They stayed like that, necking like kids, until the owner came and told them to get lost. By that point Clint was hard and the prospect of walking a mile with a stiffie was not a good one. “Come here.” Natasha took his hand, pulling him toward the parking lot. She had them in a big pick up in seconds, not bothering to get in the other side. She just climbed into his lap and continued what they’d started. Clint’s hands ran up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her skirt up. 

Natasha shifted out of the way after a fair bit of moaning as his hands stroked her hip. She met his eyes boldly and reached for his fly. Clint watched her face instead of her hand, surprised and not to find she seemed a touch nervous. Her face may have betrayed some nerves, but her hands were not nervous in the least. Clint gasped as she boldly handled his cock, stroking the already half hard shaft in slow pumps from base to tip. “Natasha.” His voice filled the small space, growling around the edges with a need he hadn’t felt in awhile. She kissed him to shut him up and soon she was positioning herself and pushing down onto him, taking both their breaths. She was no novice and the control she’d projected on the dance floor echoed in the movements of her hips on him. He rather felt like he was along for the ride right now, but that was ok. She was making soft, breathy sounds for him, bouncing up and down as Clint tried to hang on. Natasha’s hand had disappeared under her skirt, rubbing herself pretty roughly if the movement of her elbow was any clue. She moaned his name into his neck moments before he felt the telltale stillness that proceeded a woman’s orgasm. It was that build into pleasure, the plateau before she came crashing down, pulling him over about twenty seconds in. 

Clint held her after, rubbing the small of Natasha’s back down to her backside, squeezing her full ass as she slid off of him. “Not bad considering the limited space.” She tucked him away and Clint groaned because she stroked him for a minute or two before, keeping him a little hard. “Let’s see what you can do with a bed.” She opened the door and got out, leaving him to do the same as she started toward the hotel. Half a mile was so damn long but he was going to spend at least part of it staring at her ass, so that was a win.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a Jo Dee Messina song, Heads Carolina, Tails California.


End file.
